HOKKAIDO PICS

Yes, about two months too late, but hey, it’s a long and tedious job to crop, resize and upload a ton of photos.

Click here to see ninety glorious digital photos of my (quite) recent trip to Hokkaido.

Here’s a couple of samples to tempt you…

SIX-STRINGED SUPERFLUOUSNESS?

Last spring my purchases of a Fender Jazz bass and a Fender Jazzmaster guitar for a total of $1,600 were going to be the final splurges in what is a rather expensive hobby, what with my uncertain employment status and the creaking world economy.

After all, those acquisitions meant that I had a total of thirteen guitars and basses, some of them musical necessities because of their unique sounds, but many superfluous legacy models collecting dust in the corner.

My Fender Jazzmaster - all retro chic and sludge-like tones

All bases (no pun intended) were covered, sonically speaking. A guitar with a twangy sound, another with a tremolo arm for making weird noises, another for sounding like Angus Young out of AC/DC, a 12-string acoustic for that occasional campfire sing-along and a couple more cheaper ones perfect for throwing around in a tantrum. A growling bass, and a smooth one, a cheap nasty bass and a tiny one loaned out to a child…was there really any need for more?

But see, guitars are not just functional instruments, no, they are works of art to be treasured, admired, caressed and wondered at.

Some brands and models are like huge lush Caravaggios, others are somewhat Picasso, while many in my collection are like crappy and frequently obscene doodles found on school notebooks. No matter what, all have their place and values, and you can never get enough of ‘em.

And so it was that on holiday in Hokkaido I noticed that the musical emporiums were replete with fresh shipments of that most exotic of all guitar species the Rickenbacker.

Sapporo's Shimamura Music store - Rick heaven?

Hand-made and with an 18-month waiting list for orders, these exquisite beasts are as rare as hen’s teeth in this neck of the woods, and so one must not balk when an opportunity presents itself for acquisition, regardless of the ludicrously high cost.

Thus I reasoned to myself and my skinny wallet as I salivated over this clutch of beauties on display in Sapporo, and even as I gazed on, a hungry connoiseur pounced and eloped with a fine midnight blue 330 model, as used by such luminaries as Pete Townshend, Roger McGuinn and Paul Weller.

Rickenbacker 330 in Sapporo shortly before purchase by some oik

I declined to purchase, mainly due to the logistics of having to cart a guitar all the way back to Hiroshima, but building up in my mind with unstoppable force was the will to buy.

Now it just so happened that a few weeks before, I’d been introduced to a new and hitherto unknown guitar shop in Hiroshima, and there I had spied a tasty little midnight blue Rickenbacker 620. This beastie is a rarity indeed, much less famous than the 330, its bigger brother, not toted by any famous musicians, but actually a more luxurious model with full neck and body binding and those sexy little triangular neck markers just like my good old 4003 bass.

And so I made a little deal with myself: on returning to Hiroshima I would visit the shop, and if that little 620 was still there, I would buy it. Well, my heart was thumping as I ascended the escalator and entered said emporium, part of me (the boring, logical, rational part) hoping that someone had already snapped it up. But no, there it was, in all its splendour. But hang on a minute, what was that new item beside it? Another iteration of the same guitar, but this time in sexy ‘Fireglo‘, a delightful finish allowing the natural maple to shine through! I ran towards it, shoving people out of my path, threw a wad of cash at the clerk and absconded with my new love.

My Rickenbacker 620 in 'Fireglo' finish

Economics be damned: paying $2,000 for a Rickenbacker guitar is like investing in art. Hell, even if I never played the thing and just occasionally admired it in its plush case it would still be worth it…

Let's take a closer look at that sexy body...

HOKKAIDO HIGHLIGHTS

Spring has well and truly arrived here in Hiroshima, but Hokkaido, where I was a few days ago, is still firmly entrenched in winter.

I started off by flying to Hakodate, the southernmost city of note in Japan‘s most northern island. I say city, but ‘deserted village‘ might be a better appellation for this historic settlement.The alleged population of 250,000 were nowhere to be seen, and few dwellings were lit of an eve.

At once I was struck by how Hokkaido is indeed different from the rest of Japan: let’s face it, it’s just Russia with all the Slavs replaced by Japanese and the odd convenience store scattered here and there.

It was also bloody freezing with biting Siberian wind and snow flurries as I wandered among quaint-looking European-style buildings dotted around the thin strip of land sandwiched between two bays which constitutes Hakodate. There was even a Russian Orthodox church complete with real Russian priest…

The high point of my stay in this town, both literally and figuratively, was undoubtly waiting for sunset upon Mt.Hakodate with masses of noisy Chinese tourists. I ventured off away from the hordes for some solitude, but was rewarded only by a fall into a snowbank from which extrication was difficult. The view of the ‘city’ was indeed a splendid one:

Next stop: the prefectural capital of Hokkaido, Sapporo. Now that’s more like it, a place with enough souls to support numerous iterations of Starbucks and electric guitar emporiums, all your humble narrator needs on days when the weather is so inclement that venturing outside is hazardous in the extreme. On one occasion, I left the hotel, crossed the black ice encrusted road in the face of heavy snow, went into a nearby Lawsons convenience store and bought an umbrella. Not thirty seconds had passed after leaving the shop and the aforementioned parasol was sailing skyward, bent beyond all recognition, much to my great chagrin.

I was also shocked to see this fellow wandering down the streets:

When the sun did deign to shine again, I headed out on the train to nearby port town Otaru, a pleasant little haven full of warehouses, canals and old banks, which shouldn’t be interesting, but somehow is. It was bloody freezing again, too. I was forced into a clothes store to purchase a thick woolly hat to afford  my noggin greater protection than the customary Nike baseball cap I tote. Alas, a sudden glance in the reflective window of a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet revealed that I did in fact, look like a complete twat in my new headgear, and so it was unceremoniously binned. Like the young Japanese crumpet who risk their very health by going short-skirted and bare-legged in snowy Hokkaido climes, I too chose fashion over functionality and survived to tell the tale.

Heading further north still, I relocated to the city of Asahikawa, which holds the dubious distinction of being the coldest place in Japan. First up, I bought me a burgundy neck-warmer, such was the chill that was upon me, for it was around -5ºC during the daytime, and the nightime, well, these Japanese hotels are like ovens, so there was no problem there as I lay naked and uncovered in my cot, neighbours on either side apparently having cranked their heaters up to about 30ºC.

First stop, the magnificent Asahiyama Zoo, the best in these isles, where I spent a very pleasant day amid the arctic critters such as this geezer:

Finally I ventured out into the wilds. The nearby town of Biei is famous for its flower fields, but this is of course meaningless for idiots who go there out of season and without their own transport. I manfully set off on foot from the station and got a few clicks out before the weather became so intolerably cold that I was forced to return, but not before this amazing shot had been captured. Note the richly-featured landscape:

Well, there we have it. Was it a good idea to travel up north so early in the year? Yes! Was the Lonely Planet guidebook for Japan still utterly shite and useless? Yes!

The full photo set will be appearing on www.ardle.net soon…

JAPAN’S WILD NORTHERN FRONT EAR

Next week I’m off to Hokkaido, Japan’s wild northern frontier, a mere stone’s throw (or 105mm howitzer volley) from those furry-hatted Russians. Technically speaking, the two countries are still at war, but that’s a whole nother story, comrade.

It's the red bit...

Now many folks go to Hokkaido in the summer when its European-style mild temperatures make for a much welcome escape from the subtropical sweatbowl that is the rest of the archipelago.

From November to April it is transformed into a skiing and snowboarding paradise with perfect powdery snow that has in recent years attracted hoards of Aussies.

So what business do I, the non-sportsman, have in going there? Well, I’ve never been there before, always put off by what were said to be unreasonably high prices. Folks said, no mate, it’s cheaper to spend a month in Vietnam with hordes of smelly European students than it is to pass through the eye of a needle…er, I mean, go to Hokkaido.

Skiing. Hokkaido. Not Mt.Fujii, that's somewhere else...

See, the place is really far from Hiroshima for a start. We’re on the same latitude as Morocco, but Hokkaido is near Vladivostok. Yep, think tundra, bears and frostbite rather than souks and medinas. Not that we have those in Hiroshima, but you know what I mean.

Anyway, I was thinking where to go for my annual spring holiday domestic jaunt and on the off chance popped into the travel agents and checked out the price. To my amazement, it was only $450 for a return open-jaw flight plus one night in a swish hotel thrown in too. Now that’s a bargain, so I signed up immediately.

My sumptuous residence in Hakodate. Unless they can't find my reservation.

Now I don’t know if this has something to do with the drastic economic downturn, but when I went online to book my accommodation I found that prices were slashed beyond credulity. I was able to get the most luxurious places usually going for $120 plus for just $40!! How can they possibly be making a profit?

I must I admit I feel slightly guilty for taking advantage of the economic downturn, but then again, hey, I stuck a load of money into an Irish bank which went down the pan so quickly it had to be nationalized. So, folks, I suppose it’s best to get what kicks you can before the whole shithouse comes tumbling down…

The gameplan: Hiroshima > Hakodate (3 nights) > Sapporo (4 nights) > Asahikawa (4 nights) > Sapporo > Hiroshima, with day trips out to numerous scenic villages, old canals and ports, and mountainous national parks. It will be cold and snowy, but hey, we were once again cheated in our winter here, with only a handful of days in which it was really chilly. A man has a right to some serious brass monkey weather each year, otherwise we might as well all be living in Singapore, right readers?